Closure
by Firechild20
Summary: For seven years, Harry and Malfoy hated each other. Now, years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the two men happen upon each other. Can they ever overcome old grudges and become friends?


Harry Potter looked over the piles of paperwork cluttering his desk. Setting his quill down, he leaned back and stretched, absentmindedly running his hand through his unruly hair. Hunching over the desk for hours on end was sometimes more exhausting than being out on assignment. If nothing else, it was far more boring. Harry really enjoyed chasing down dark wizards and performing brave acts for the good of society. After all, he had spent a great deal of his youth doing the very same thing. In comparison to the task he faced in defeating Voldemort, his job was rather peachy. The paperwork aspect of it, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.

At times like this, he could practically hear Hermione lecturing him in his head: "What did I tell you, Harry? Being an auror takes a lot of dedicated study and literacy. It isn't all bravery and nerve. If you'd put more effort into your studies at school, it wouldn't seem so terrible." Harry smiled and shook his head at the memory of his dear friend.

He glanced at the clock and noticed it was far past time for lunch. Rising from his desk, he donned his coat and left the office. The ministry was just as crowded as ever. Paper memos zipped quickly past his head. Those had taken some time to get used to when he started working there. He was at least comforted in knowing his own subconscious swatting at them had been far less humiliating in comparison to Ron's need to duck and cover any time one shot passed his ear.

"It's post traumatic stress," he would always say to a laughing Harry. "It wasn't that long ago when those were killing curses flying past my head."

The memos were only a small part of the everyday chaos, however. The air was riddled with cracks of apparition and frantic yells. The main hall was constantly crowded as people glided in and around each other, each with their important agenda at hand.

Lost in thought, Harry found himself neglecting to watch his step and consequently ran directly into another body. Harry stumbled backward, his hand flying to his face to keep his glasses from falling off. He quickly turned to look at who he had run into and mumbled a hasty apology before really seeing who it was he was speaking to. The man had white blonde hair, neatly slicked back down his scalp. The pale complexion of skin starkly contrasted with the jet black of his finely tailored robes.

"Hey, Potter," the man greeted, giving him a grim smile.

"Malfoy," Harry said, instantly bringing back the memories of all the different times he muttered that same word with malice years before. Back then; his name was a curse, an implication. Now, it was only a statement.

A beat passed as the two men surveyed each other, both unsure of what to say. Harry couldn't help but notice how much Malfoy had changed. His hair had already had started to recede ever so slightly from his forehead and skin seemed paler and sunken, with light wrinkles creeping from the corners of his exhausted steel grey eyes. The events that had taken place seven years ago had clearly left their mark on Draco. Then, again, Harry still bore his own scars from the Battle of Hogwarts, even if he didn't display them so openly.

Time seemed to slow down as witches and wizards passed the two frozen men in a blur. Finally, Draco broke the silence. "I just came to the Ministry because I had some financial business to attend to," he said awkwardly.

Harry nodded. "I work here. As an auror, actually. I just got the job a couple years ago."

Draco's mouth drew into a thin line. "I saw you married the Weasley girl as well. Looks like you got everything you wanted, didn't you, Potter?" Despite the brashness of his words, they weren't said with malice and Harry strangely took no offense to them.

"Yes, I suppose one could argue that. But we both know appearances can be deceiving, don't we, Malfoy? We've both been through far too much to pretend we escaped unscathed." Draco turned his face away, and Harry knew it was because his pride was too stubborn to let Harry see just how much those events still lived within him.

"Well, I better go, Potter. I've more important things to do than stand here and chat all day." Without a word of cordial goodbye, Draco turned on his heels and began heading for the exit. Harry stayed in place for a moment, contemplating something even he could hardly believe he was capable of. After a few moments, he set off after Draco.

"Malfoy, wait. I'm on lunch right now. Do you want to go somewhere and talk?" For a moment, Draco seemed conflicted between the old part of him who hated Harry with every fiber of his being and the new part of him who wanted to amend old grudges. Without saying a word, he nodded.

The two men made their way to the main entrance of the Ministry and stepped into one of the Floo Network fireplaces. Harry took a handful of metallic dust, threw it at their feet, and shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron!" Green flames rose from the floor and engulfed them in darkness.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron and walked purposefully up to the bar, where he took a seat, and ordered two firewhiskeys. Draco lagged behind, stepping cautiously into the place he had only passed through on the way to Diagon Alley as a child. His father has always said they were too good to eat at a common tavern.

"What my father would say if he saw me having a drink here, of all places, and with you, of all people," Draco said, walking up behind Harry. Nevertheless, he pulled out a stool and sat down.

Harry gave a soft snort of laughter. The bartended had just returned with the drinks and slid them in front of the two men. "Good to see you, Harry. How's the wife doing?" the man asked.

"She's as a big as a house, but don't tell her I said that. She'd beat me with her broomstick if she found out. I expect the baby should be coming any day now."

The bartender clapped Harry on the back. "Good luck with all that, son. Children can be quite tiresome, as you'll soon find out. I'll leave you gentlemen to it," he said before disappearing into the back room. Harry raised the glass to his lips and took a large swig, grimacing at the burn coursing down his throat. Even now, years later, Harry never really had acquired the taste for firewhiskey.

A warm sensation settled in the pit of Harry's stomach, giving Harry the courage to say what was necessary. "Your mother saved my life," he said suddenly, setting the glass down. "In the Forbidden Forest. Did she ever tell you that, Malfoy?"

From the look Malfoy gave him, his eyes betraying a slight hint of surprise, Harry guess that she hadn't. Draco folded his hands in front of him. "Well, you saved mine that day as well, so we're even."

"Not really," Harry said, taking another swig of firewhiskey. "You saved me before, too, at Malfoy Manor. You refused to identify me."

"I didn't save you. I only bought you some time. You did the rest yourself."

"Malfoy, I've been wanting to, I don't know, repay you or at least thank you for some time now. I just didn't know how to go about doing it."

"Stop making me out as some sort of hero, Potter. I'm not. The only one of us who is a hero is you and don't pretend you think otherwise. I don't want your gratitude or your pity. I chose my actions knowing full well what they would do and I'm the only one who has to carry that burden."

It was more words than Malfoy had spoken at one time all afternoon. Though he refused to meet Harry's gaze, a look of pain screwed his features. Malfoy closed his eyes and composed himself. The wall in Malfoy's features rose again and Harry found himself unable to tell what he was thinking or feeling.

"Do you mean to say you feel guilty, Malfoy?"

The muscle in Draco's jaw twitched. "I suppose I'm looking for some closure more than anything." Draco's hand clenched into a fist on the countertop. "Even though I know I'll likely never get it. A fool's dream, I suppose."

It was so difficult to believe this was the man Harry once hated, the boy who had made his life so often miserable. As a schoolboy, Harry could imagine no greater hatred than that which he held for both Malfoy and Severus Snape. Already proven wrong on the latter account, Harry had gained the feeling the same was true for the man beside him. The look on Draco's face only confirmed Harry's belief that Draco had indeed atoned for his actions.

Taking a deep breath, Harry said the words his younger self would have never even considered. "I forgive you, Malfoy, if that means anything to you." Harry knew his former classmate and enemy was far too stubborn and proud to ask forgiveness, but Harry felt as though he needed to hear it anyway. Draco exhaled in the form of a dry humorless laugh, though he could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief somewhere within it.

Malfoy lifted his glass, tipped it to his face, and finished off the rest of the drink. "See you around, Harry." At that, Malfoy slapped some silver sickles on the countertop, rose from his seat, and left without looking back.

Harry finished his firewhiskey with an odd sort of feeling. Harry. Malfoy had called him Harry for the first time. After all those years, amends had been made and even if the two would never be friends, they had at least reached some sort of understanding. Harry was willing to accept that as it was.

As Harry walked back into his office at the Ministry, he found Ron sitting at the desk adjacent to his. "Hey, Harry. I just got in from an assignment. Anything exciting happen here while I was gone?"

Harry thought about telling Ron everything that had just happened, but just as he opened his mouth, he decided against it. Reaching a truce with Malfoy was something Harry had needed and he knew Ron would never fully understand it. "No. Not a thing."

3

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